


I Am Thankful, Dammit!

by sammichgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, Wincest - Freeform, compulsion to talk, implied top!Sam/bottom!Dean, mentions of anal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammichgirl/pseuds/sammichgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets cursed at Thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Thankful, Dammit!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apparently I have nothing to do with the show or WB/CW beyond my imagination. Oh, to dream.
> 
> AN #1: Thanks to all my LJ friends and wincest community this Thanksgiving. You made coming out of my shell much easier. Thank you all for your writing, art, inspiration and love.
> 
> AN #2: Thanks ever so much to my beta and partner in porn, deansdirtybb. And what a long way in such a short time, my dear wincesty friend.

He simply had to laugh.  This curse was by far the funniest one Sam had ever seen thrown at Dean.  Shaking his head, he started slowly eating his Cobb salad, keeping an eye on his not quite reverent big brother.

“And I’m thankful for hustled pool money, and classic rock, and pie.”  Dean stopped his prayer of thankfulness, hoping it was enough to let him finally eat.  Fucking witches. 

The urge to suddenly spout what he was thankful for receded, and Dean was able to pick up his fork to dig into the fresh hot cherry pie slice in front of him.  One bite, a small moan, and then, “And I’m thankful to Madge, the awesome diner bakery lady,” he mumbled, around a mouthful of pie.

Sam choked on a bite of avocado and bacon, earning him a glare from flashing green eyes across the Formica table.  “Dude, you know it’s funny.” 

“Is not, Sam.  Every time I try to do anything, I feel compelled to declare why I am thankful.  And I am thankful, dammit.  But why do I have to say it all out loud like some girly emo train wreck?”  Dean pouted and was about to say more, when suddenly, “I am thankful that I have someone like my little brother who understands the need to be emo and will put up with me.”  And Sam lost it.

Howling laughter, dimples in full force, hazel eyes dancing in merriment.   “Well, Dean, if you’d stop hitting on anything with breasts, maybe you wouldn’t get all these curses thrown at you.  I mean, I’m right here, am I not enough for you?”  Sam winked at Dean when he said it, so Dean knew it was just a jab. 

Dean loved Sam, was in love with Sam, and Sam was more than enough for him.  He just appreciated the female form.  Sometimes he appreciated that form with Sam.  But the leggy, busty, curly auburn haired bombshell didn’t seem into that idea; not into Dean, anyway.  Last night she was all about Sam.  Not that Dean could blame her, Sam was sexy as fuck.  But Dean had gotten pissy about it, especially when she had started engaging Sam in conversation and placing small touches on his shoulder, his arm, his back, running her fingers up his neck to gently tousle in his hair. 

“I am thankful for the soft chestnut tendrils that frame my beautiful Sammy’s face,” started Dean, before he could even try to stop himself.  Horror-stricken eyes glanced up to Sam.  Sam could only grin in response. 

“Sam, I swear, I don’t know what-“and then stopped short as he saw the witch approach them both.  She walked with purpose up to their diner table and leaned over, giving them an eyeful of bosom.  Which Sam deftly avoided looking at and met her head on.

“So, you did curse my brother?  Why?”  Sam flicked his gaze over to Dean, who was really trying to keep his mouth shut for once.

“You seriously cannot be asking me that,” replied the overly friendly girl.  She leaned into Sam’s side of the booth, intentionally shoving her chest right up under his nose.

“Yeah, I kinda am,” replied Sam.  And kept looking at Dean.  Dean who was struggling really hard to not let whatever thankfulness was on his tongue fly out.

“He’s a complete womanizer.  Aren’t you two together?  And yet he flirts with every girl around him.   It’s a bit insulting, to us and to you, I would think.”  And the girl kept leaning into Sam’s space, now letting her fingers run up and down his arm again.  Sam pulled away, reaching his hand across the table to lightly take hold of Dean’s fingers.

And Dean couldn’t control it, it _had_ to be said.  “I’m thankful that my Sammy lets me be the ass I am sometimes,” which was quickly followed by, “I am thankful Sam knows I’m his bitch and would never cheat on him.”  And the witch laughed, low and throaty, “What else are you thankful for, Dean?  What else about your _Sammy_ are you thankful for?  Tell him everything…he deserves to hear everything you have to say.”  And the witch bitch got up and walked away, still chuckling, throwing over her shoulder, “Dean, I mean it.  Tell him everything you are thankful for.  Your curse will wear off eventually, when you realize what you should be thankful for.”

Dean’s eyes widened in fear.  _Dammit._

Sam watched the emotions fly over Dean’s face at rapid speed, and knew he was in for some serious chick flick items.  And some pretty damn funny ones too, he expected.  He waved their waitress over, ordering two more cups of coffee for them and more pie.  He wanted to enjoy the show.

Dean felt compelled to speak.  All he could think about was Sam.  Sam naked.  Sam topping him.  Sam taking control.  He opened his mouth, and nothing came out.  There were too many things to say.  Sam could see Dean’s ears turning pink, see his full, plush, pouty lips trying to form words.  He saw the complete anxiety in those emerald depths.  Sam was still holding onto Dean’s wrist, and lightly squeezed. 

“Hey,” he spoke softly.  “Just let it go, Dean.  Let it all go.  Not going to judge or laugh at you, not going to hold it over your head later.  Promise.”

Dean bit his lip, looked back into the shining hazel orbs and saw the love Sam held for him reflected.  Sam had no idea that Dean had nothing but sex on the brain.  This was going to be so very bad.  And he let go.  Not so very quietly.  He tried to start with stuff Sam would expect.   

“Sam, I am thankful for you being my little brother and best friend.  I am thankful for all the times we can finish each other’s thoughts and sentences.  I am thankful for the way we always have each other’s backs.  I am thankful that you know me so well, inside and out.  I am thankful for your radiating furnace of a body in bed.”

And at that, he had caught the attention of several people in the diner, including Madge, who promptly dropped the slices of pie she was about to set down.

But Dean could not stop.  Sam started to get a little apprehensive about what else Dean was thankful for.  “Dude, you can stop now.”

“I can’t Sammy.  I can’t.  I’m thankful for your honeyed skin, miles of it, all naked and smooth.”  Madge dropped the coffee pot next, hands flying up to her cheeks.

The table seated right behind them turned around.  Talk ensued amongst them, “Didn’t he say brother?”  “That can’t be right.”  “I think maybe he meant something else?”

And Sam, looking at Madge, replied tersely, “Check please.”  Try as she might, Madge could not move.

But Dean kept going, there was no way he could hold back.  “And your cock, Sam.  My god, your monster of a dick, hard and fat and full inside of me, pumping into me, filling me full of your sweet creamy come.  I live for that shit.  So thankful you’re hung like a freaking horse.  Being split open by you is the best fucking feeling in the world.  Although sometimes I’m thankful for the way you fuck my mouth and it’s like a goddamn treat to suck you off and swallow you down.” 

At that, Dean’s entire head, his ears, his whole body was bright red.  Sam, turning just as red, dug his wallet out, threw down two twenties, and hauled Dean up, clearly expecting him to follow him out.  The entire diner was in shock, chattering could be heard from end to end.  Madge sat down on a diner stool and could not even speak.

Sam strode quickly, out the door into the crisp cool November air in Vermont.  Dean trailed after Sam, out of the diner towards the Impala.  “Sam, I’m also thankful for the way you ride my ass.  You completely own me and I’m thankful that you tie me up, tease me to the edge over and over and over and make me beg for you.”  Dean wanted to shut up, he did.  He couldn’t. 

Sam whirled around, stopped Dean in his tracks, and snatched the keys out of Dean’s jacket pocket.  “Get in the car, Dean.”

“But Sammy, let me show you how much I’m thankful.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Dude, can you think about anything else except sex?”

And Dean stopped.  His mind went into a complete blank.  Sam saw the confusion in his eyes, could see his brain trying to derail into a different topic.

“Yes, yes I can think about other things besides sex, Sam.  Dammit, I’m not some nympho that needs it, like, all the time.  I mean, I’m thankful for your school boy geekiness.  Your research skills are amazing, and man, when you put your mind to learning something, it’s fucking awesome for us both.  Remember that time you learned about candlewax?” 

Sam just groaned, put the car in drive, and took them back to the motel.  Dean truly could not shut up.  And although Sam liked hearing how much Dean lived for being his slut during the heat of play, he wanted the curse done already.

Dean kept mumbling his thankfulness at Sam’s prowess in bed.  He was starting to get sleepy, but he could not stop.  He couldn’t even think about anything else, including how sleepy he was.

When they got back to their room, Sam wanted to take a long shower.  Alone.  He needed to think how to break this curse.  And Dean’s voice was starting to grate on his nerves. 

Dean was almost in tears at the thought of Sam not being able to hear his ongoing tribute.  It actually hurt to be too far from him he realized, so he planted himself outside the bathroom door, which Sam left cracked open.  His voice hiccupped, but he kept telling Sam about his thankfulness for his broad shoulders, his fetish for spanking, for the way he could push Dean up against a wall and fuck him senseless without any support.  He slid down the doorframe, fighting the sleepiness.

Sam let the hot water run and run and run after he had soaped down.  He reflected back on the witch, and her words to Dean.  _“Your curse will wear off eventually, when you realize what you should be thankful for.”_ He had to get Dean to stop thinking about sex.  That was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

Upon opening the bathroom door, steam billowing out around him, towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his chest, he found Dean rocking himself back and forth.  Dean had completely zoned out and Sam could barely make out the soft whispers Dean made. 

When Sam knelt down and laid a hand on his shoulders, Dean looked up.  “Sammy, I’m so thankful you love me, and only me.” 

Before Sam could reply back, Dean promptly let his head fall into Sam’s chest and started softly snoring. 

So Sam scooped him up, walked over to the large king-sized bed and laid him down.  He undressed him down to his boxers, pulled the covers up over them both as he slid down behind Dean to spoon him.  Running his hand through Dean’s spiky hair, he rubbed his cheek and kissed the nape of his neck.  “I am thankful for you too, Dean.  I knew you only loved me.”

  



End file.
